Star Wars_ Fate of the Jedi 07_ Conviction - Aaron Allston [149]
“Luke …” She spoke with both her voice and her mind. “Join with me. Save me.”
He wrapped himself more fully around her, in body and in the Force. “I will. I will save you.”
And he tore at her.
It was an act of brutality, a perversion of the mnemotheraphy technique. It was like performing a surgical amputation with a dull stone ax weighing ten kilos. With all the strength he possessed in the Force, he yanked her away from her body, away from Abeloth.
He could not have done it to a living being. But Callista did not belong where she was. The body she now inhabited, the broad life force that was Abeloth—they were not her true home. She had no true home. And Luke tore her free of the things that anchored her to the physical world.
It was a physical effort, too. Luke staggered free of Callista’s body and fell to his knees, drained in an instant of all his strength.
Now he could see with just his own eyes. Callista staggered back from him, her mouth open, a shriek of pain, half Abeloth and half someone else, none of it Callista, pouring out of her.
But Callista also hovered in Luke’s arms, her robes now a softer brown, a glow suffusing her. She was transparent. Through her, Luke could see Valin stumbling back as though he’d been kicked in the face and tripping over the body of a Listener.
Callista—the ethereal one—looked at Luke one more time. There was no anxiety in her expression, no longing—just gratitude. She threw back her head as though reacting to a river suddenly pouring through her.
Luke knew there was such a river. The light side of the Force—at last she could feel it again, touch it, be a part of it.
She smiled, and faded, and was gone.
Panting, Luke looked up at her body. It still shrieked. And now it was changing, as the Force illusion that had altered it faded away. The body flattened and lengthened, hair vanishing from the top of its head, more appearing upon its face. An elderly man, thin as a post, his eyes almost black—Luke recognized Nenn, elder of the Theran Listeners.
Still shrieking, Nenn drew the lightsaber from his belt. He did so awkwardly, clearly unfamiliar with the weapon. He activated it, and the red blade of a Sith sprang forth.
Luke drew his own weapon. His own hands were shaky. He got to his feet, wobbly as a newborn cu-pa.
Nenn reversed his lightsaber and plunged its blade into his own body, driving it home through his breastbone. Luke saw the glowing red blade emerge from his back. Nenn collapsed to the permacrete floor and finally was silent. His eyes remained open, fixed.
Valin, struggling until that moment to rise, gave a moan and collapsed.
And from not too far away, echoing through the pumping chamber, rising above the sounds of blasters and lightsabers, came a wavering cry—a scream of pain and anger from Abeloth. She had to be in a nearby tunnel or chamber. Luke wondered if he had the strength to confront her. At least Ben and Vestara seemed to be unhurt.
Immediately above Luke, a woman spoke. “You Jedi have some interesting customs.”
Luke looked up. On the platform above stood Tola Annax, the Sith woman who’d confronted them at Kesla Vein. Her skin was now an attractive purple and her hair a snowy white. With her were perhaps a dozen robed Sith, unlit lightsabers in hand, some human and some lavender-skinned.
On the platform opposite, the one from which Callista had descended, were a dozen more.
Ben moved up to stand protectively beside his father. He breathed out a disappointed sigh. “Got any ideas for this one, Dad?”
“Sorry, Ben. Not this time.”
KLATOOINE
UNDER NIGHTTIME SKIES, ALLANA DESCENDED THE FALCON’S BOARDING ramp with Anji and looked up at Javon.
He looked down at her. “You want to go out.”
She nodded.
“You know Jedi Solo wants you to stay here until she gets back.”
She nodded.
“You’re going to give me an immense amount of grief if I try to keep you here, aren’t you?”
She nodded.
He sighed and activated his headset. “All right, troops. Form up, standard pattern.”
The Falcon’s boarding ramp rose up into